From my heart to yours – The Desiderata: A Reading by Stan Faryna

Desiderata: Reading by @Faryna

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by Stan Faryna

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Maya Angelou – Being a gift unto others #rise

I fed upon her words

by Stan Faryna

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Maya Angelou, Still I Rise

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She stood shoulders above

She was no god, priestess, queen, diplomat nor elected official, but Maya Angelou exercised the greatest of all powers in creation. She could speak a word and it was done. She was blessed from above like few others. I may be mistaken but I understood her power came by faith and grace.

I also understood that this gentle woman moved mountains with her words. She spoke to stones and they beat again as hearts – even if only for a moment.

Ordinarily, I would join the world in it’s gentle wish for rest for a beloved. But I can not say RIP Maya Angelou. Do not misunderstand me, I have the greatest respect for the woman. Instead, my heart shouts out in joy – RISE HIGHER. RISE UNTO THE GLORY! And I do not believe there is rest in the glory. But greater works. Like the works of stars. Works that never end. Because without their undying light, darkness would overcome.

Michael Jackson

I remember her eulogy for Michael Jackson, “We had him.” I remember how she perfectly captured the memory of the king of pop – that tragic, tortured, brave-hearted hero of our time.

“His hat, aslant over his brow, and took a pose on his toes for all of us.”

I do not know if poets will capture Maya Angelou as she captured Michael Jackson with words that memorialize a man like no stone or gold could ever have done.

How shall we rise?

I do not know if it can be said of her that we had her. Oh, please, please do not misunderstand me. She gave herself to us. She gave us fire, wind, water, air and earth. She told us to unfold our unseen wings. But only those who had ears to listen, heard her. Only those who had eyes to see, saw Maya Angelou. Only those who had ears, heard.

Though I am not a woman or African American. I rose upon her words. And still I rise. She spoke to us all.

Though I am not a woman, she reminded me that I am phenomenal, that my smile shines like the sun and, most of all, that my head, heart and spirit shall not be oppressed by demonic contempt and conceits.

Be a gift unto others

Maya Angelou was gift unto us. That is her greatest gift; it goes beyond the beating of words. She embodied a rare and precious wisdom.

Our gifts are not given for us to enjoy alone, recklessly or stupidly. We were created to be gifts unto each other. This is how we rise. We rise, together.

 

Stan Faryna
28 May 2014
Fairfax, Virginia

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43. Happy Birthday to Me.

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What is meant to be, will be. Period.

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I’ve said it before. It’s nothing new. But I still believe it to be true.

What is meant to be, will be. Nothing can stop it!

What am I talking about?

I’m not going to explain it any better than I did in a past podcast:

Confessions of a freak-geek-misfit and time agent in exile.

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Thanks for stopping by and, thank you, for being a joy and inspiration in my life.

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Stan Faryna
22 October 2012
Bucharest, Romania

Two good hands ain’t enough – episode 4 of an epic, end of the world story

A science fiction novel about the end of the world, love, money, leadership, MMORPGs, zombies, alien technology and everything else.

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Episode One: The heart of a hero
Episode Two: Love hurts
Episode Three: God speed your love

Episodes and/or related writing are published on this blog – most Mondays and Wednesdays. Please subscribe to this blog to get a reminder when the next episode is published. Subscriptions are free.

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Iron Maiden, The Trooper

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The Book of Carrot

Book One: Principal Virtues

Chapter One: Love is a battlefield

Episode Four: Two good hands ain’t enough

Audience: Adult

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Norocul este din sticla, cand incepe sa straluceasca, se sparge.

Luck is like glass. When it starts to shine, it breaks.

A Romanian Proverb

Love hurts

A science fiction story about the end of the world, true love, destiny, beauty, heroes, and everything else.

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Previous Episode

Episodes and/or related writing are published on this blog – most Mondays and Wednesdays. Please subscribe to this blog to get a reminder when the next episode is published. Subscriptions are free.

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Enrique Iglesias, Hero

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The Book of Carrot

Book One: Principal Virtues

Chapter One: Love is a battlefield

Episode Two: Love hurts

Audience: Adult

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George, John and Hachi waited at the Cretulescu Palace entrance of Cismigiu Park. Anca was meeting them there. Anca’s cousin, Cristina, and one of her girlfriends were waiting for her at La Biblioteca – the last karoake bar in Bucharest.

John was doing things on his tablet computer. Hachi was sniffing tree trunks. George was bored.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Mixing some video of Hachi for his blog.”

“How many subscribers do you have now?”

“One million – more or less.”

“That’s EPIC! One million subscribers. You’re up 100k in a week!”

The heart of a hero

Notes:

Some of you may remember that I had started writing a sci-fi novel about the end of the world. Some of that story has changed. Here’s my latest rewrite.

Episodes and/or related writing are published on this blog – most Mondays and Wednesdays. Please subscribe to this blog to get a reminder when the next episode is published. Subscriptions are free.

Stan

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Tina Turner, We Don’t Need Another Hero

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The Book of Carrot

Book One: Principal Virtues

Chapter One: Love is a battlefield

Episode One: The heart of a hero

Audience: Adult

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Toate drumurile duc la Roma.

All roads lead to Rome.

A Romanian Proverb

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The dark, long night was endless. John’s heart was still pounding from the death match that he had just won an hour ago. Below, the dead dragged their feet.

“You are so totally epic!” whispered George excitedly.

The Long Road of Hope. And exercises in procrastination.

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October 2023

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Tina Turner, We Don’t Need Another Hero

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I’m working again on my science fiction novel. The first book of many (or so I like to say to myself). I attempt now the second rewrite.

“Do,” says Yoda.

“Oh – I’m facing a mountain of do, little rodent-man,” I reply to the venerable and wise Jedi Master.

The little dude wanders off muttering to himself – it sounds like the hushed barks of a dreaming dog.

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